Warrior Fae Trapped (Warrior Fae 1)

“Aren’t these parties supposed to have kegs and cans of beer and shots of tequila? I mean…punch?”

“It’s classy. Come on.” Samantha started forward, graceful despite those huge heels.

Charity clattered after her like a newborn colt just learning to walk. “Why do people wear shoes this tall? They are horribly uncomfortable.”

Samantha smiled at a decent-looking guy with a slouch and an expensive watch. He nodded in hello and scooted to the side, making room for the new additions.

“Hi,” Sam said to a girl with airbrushed makeup as she grabbed a goblet from a silver platter. She shifted her gaze back to the people arrayed around the edges of the room. They all had flawless skin, like the other two people Charity had seen upon entering the mansion. Their unblinking stares focused on the kids with the punch. It was like they were waiting for something.

The shrooms to kick in, perhaps? Maybe their next line of coke?

With their effortless perfection and mannequin-like poise, they had to be models. At least, most of them did. They’d clearly been brought in to give the party some flare. There was no other explanation. Given punch was full of sugar, and these people were all slim and muscular, perfectly defined, Charity would bet they were seeing purple elephants and short men with green hair. No wonder they weren’t revolting over the lack of drink options—the drugs were keeping them plenty busy.

Charity started as crystal was thrust at her. She glanced at the thruster, a platinum-blonde girl in her mid-twenties with a fierce scowl.

“No, I’m okay,” Charity said. “I think the side effect to punch might be scowling a lot…”

The scowl strengthened.

Don’t tease the rich people, Charity.

The girl shifted her scowl to Sam, who was just realizing something was amiss.

“Charity!” Samantha whispered. “You need to drink or you’ll look ridiculous.”

“Nice attempt at peer pressure, Sam, but I will look ridiculous regardless. How is an expensive glass going to help?” She took the goblet anyway. As soon as possible, she’d pour out the contents and refill it with water. It would be the fastest way to keep Sam off her back.

“So this is cool, right?” Samantha asked, stepping away from the others to put herself on display. Two of the pretty lurkers zeroed in on her. “Kind of a small, elite group. I haven’t seen most of these people before—they’re hot, though. Speaking of hot…”

Charity followed her gaze across the huge space. A guy with a half-filled goblet stood near the sliding glass door. His powder-blue shirt, collar popped, went perfectly with his Euro-style jeans. His runners were bright red to match his watch.

Her heart clattered around in her ribs.

Donnie!

His gaze was attached to the ruby-red, pouty lips belonging to a beautiful dirty-blonde woman.

“Hmmm, this is good!” Sam whispered in rapture, looking down at her drink.

Charity glanced down at her own beverage, finding an ice cube swimming tranquilly within the pink punch. Ignoring it, she said, “Doesn’t everyone here seem almost…too attractive? Like, all of their skin is…pore-less.”

“Too attractive?” Samantha scoffed before taking a huge, and not very ladylike, gulp of her drink. She dabbed the moisture off her lips with a dainty finger. “Are you serious right now? As if there is such a thing. No flaws are good, Charity. Probably plastic surgery.”

Charity opened her mouth to argue. Closed it. Donnie was on the move! He threw a shrug at the incredible beauty and then exited through the sliding glass door.

Immediately, Charity’s brain buzzed with three excuses to leave Sam and follow him. Granted, a sprained ankle didn’t make much sense, but that was the beauty of being the token poor girl—Sam assumed all poor people were crazy.

She opened her mouth to excuse herself when she heard, “Hello.”

A man whose approach she’d neither seen nor heard stood mere inches from her side. She flinched, startled. Liquid sloshed out of her goblet and over her wrist. Drops plunked onto the floor as her eyes rounded and her jaw went slack.

The man was, quite possibly, the most handsome guy she’d ever seen in her life. Literally, her entire life. High cheekbones and a straight nose adorned a gut-clenchingly beautiful face with noble features straight out of a storybook. Shapely lips pulled up into a heart-throbbing smile below velvety brown, sparkling eyes that surveyed her in rapture. It was as though she were the only thing that existed on this plane, and nothing would tear his attention away. Charisma oozed from him in heady waves, deliciously sexy and sinfully suggestive. Her body tightened up and a burst of sweat drenched her armpits.

Clearly she was not as sexy as this man. Why was he talking to her?

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance,” he said in a musical though somehow still unbelievably sultry voice.

Her lady parts burst into flame. His proximity seared her body, begging her to step closer. To touch him. To let him touch her, intimately. A desperate need to be alone with this man overwhelmed her. She wanted his body pressed up against hers, skin on skin. Him inside her, thrusting.